


We All Fall Down

by Revival_Push



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, BAMF Women, Banshee Lydia Martin, Bigotry & Prejudice, Crimes & Criminals, Dark Magic, Detective Derek Hale, Detective Laura Hale, Eating Disorders, F/F, F/M, Fae Magic, M/M, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Magical Realism, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Police Officer Derek Hale, Police Officer Erica Reyes, Police Officer Laura Hale, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Smokes, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, Werewolf Derek Hale, Witch Stiles Stilinski, Xenophobia, non con elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-06-17 21:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15470811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revival_Push/pseuds/Revival_Push
Summary: Stiles' latest relationship just ended in complete disaster and he isn't looking for trouble. He just wanted a good time and a night to forget. And then this asshole wolf come along and ruined the evening by OD-ing on the dance floor and somehow the police think it's Stiles' fault.Derek's a detective with the Preternatural Investigations Unit and he's on a mission to shut down a drug ring responsible for mass overdoses and increasing violence in his city. One night he follows a lead to a local club that may be connected to distribution, but what he finds instead is a near death experience and a direct path to a troubled young man Derek swears is trying to kill him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.

Like the song said, _it started out with a kiss_. Or more accurately it started with Stiles making eyes at the pretty blonde nixie across the room. Stiles found it hard to focus on her solid unblinking eyes, all of which was completely turquoise from the pupil to the sclera. They were very pretty in a sort of disconcerting way. But then so was the girl who owned them. He liked that part very much. So much in fact that he was about to cross the floor and give it his best go when tall, dark and wasted practically body slammed him. The jolt of impact didn’t quite awaken Stiles from his comfortably drunken haze and the hot wet mouth suddenly pressed over his wasn’t helping the situation much either.

He figured he was a bit too drunk to say he jumped back in shock, but he definitely gave a clumsy jerk backwards. For all the good it did though. The guys grip was like solid iron on his arms, and maybe it was the miner whiplash or the four whiskey sours he’d downed a bit too aggressively or the edible he had earlier or maybe that whole thing with his boyfriend cheating on him a week before their second anniversary, but for whatever reason the only thing Stiles could muster to say when he looked up and saw that ruggedly tan jaw was, “Hell yeah.”

And then they were making out for real.

Stiles found that he very much liked the way he fit against the guys’ too warm body and the way his scruff scratched at Stiles’ jaw and neck while his mouth explored basically the entire lower half of Stiles’ face. Or at least he liked it until until he was being pushed against a table and the guys mouth became uncomfortably sharp and bruisingly hard against Stiles’ lips.

He felt a dull sort of panic rising up from his belly that woke him from the sleepy haze of anti-reality he had been enjoying. Stiles turned his head and sucked in a breath of hot air, but the man just took the opportunity to attach himself to his neck instead. Stiles tried to calm his breathing into steady heaves and let the energy bottled in his core push outward into his fingertips that manifested into little fiery sparks. Stiles flailed his arms against the man, who barely moved an inch that Stiles didn’t closely follow. The booze was making him a little slow for offensive magick but Stiles figured he was giving enough to throw a normal guy off him but this dude wasn’t fucking budging.

“Hey, man, come on.” Stiles gave a slightly more forceful shove and Stiles swore the guy _growled._ From his peripheral vision Stiles made out a burst of glassy blue light coming from the man’s eyes. The brightness was dull but still enough to catch the sheen on an elongated claw that was punching through the fabric of Stiles’ jacket.  

_ Werewolf. _

“Hey, man, hold up.”

_Fucking fuck_.

“Jesus, take it easy!” And with an almighty heave Stiles pushed out. The force was enough that Stiles’ body managed to knock down the table behind him and the guy went flying in the opposite direction. Stiles’ stumbled for a moment before catching his balance. When he looked up he saw the nixie girl place a delicate hand over her small mouth before disappearing into the crowd around her. The guy Stiles’ sent soaring was still on the ground and it didn’t look like he was planning on getting up anytime soon. Still, it probably wasn’t a good idea to stick around.

Stiles stumbled a moment and pushed at his shoulder where is was moist. His hand came away a sticky red.

_Motherfucker._

Stiles’ tried not to feel sorry for himself, but this was such complete and utter _bullshit_. He was so fucking tired of shitstorm boyfriends who fuck their next-door neighbors on Tuesday at 2 PM and creepy randos in clubs who have too-hard mouths and friends who have their lives together while Stiles is a hot fucking mess.

“I,” Stiles declared to the room, “am too drunk for this shit. Good-fucking-bye.”

Before he could act on his declaration a very short girl who was either very kind or very stupid walked up to the asshole on the floor and leaned in. “Oh shit, I think he’s dead.”

Stiles felt an odd tingle on his lips.

“Someone call 911!”

Actually, Stiles was feeling very odd. He tried to swallow the bitterness in his mouth but his tongue felt heavy and thick in his mouth. Someone came up behind him and placed a palm over Stiles bleeding shoulder, “Hey, man, are you okay?”

“No,” Stiles said, “I’m really not.”

And then everything went black.

-=-=-=-

Stiles woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed. Technically this had happened once before, but unlike last time Stiles also pretty sure he was dying. Also this bed was a lot less comfortable. “Ow fuck.” Stiles clenched a hand around gut and make like he was going to rip out his gut. “Jesus.”

“Oh, boy you definitely need Jesus.” A nurse in light purple scrubs came into Stiles’ sight. Her hair was a soft gingery halo under the fluorescent ceiling lights. “And a brain transplant, too.”

Stiles curled in on himself and groaned. Sweat beading on his brow but his body felt like ice.

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon.” She reassured him.

Stiles sucked in a scratchy breath to stabilize himself and gasped, “What. Happened?”  

Vaguely Stiles could hear yelling in the distance, just close enough to make his head throb.

“You poisoned your own dumb ass, dumb ass.”

Stiles was no stranger to hangovers and every reveling god under the sun could testify to the times Stiles found himself diving nose first into whatever score gave him something that made the world shiny again. It had been a long while since any of those vices had led to Stiles waking up in a hospital bed.

The voices were getting louder and slightly more aggressive sounding until a small parade of tall and blatantly angry people poured in between the little gap of blue curtains that surrounded his hospital bed. The woman leading the charge had a scowl planted on her face and a glare that made Stiles want to sink into his pillow and turn his homework in on time. Her high ponytail swung heavily behind her as she zeroed in on Stiles. Her nostrils expanded and her eyes lit up red.

Wolf.

Alpha wolf.

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

It took three stomps in his direction before Stiles saw the badge strapped on her belted hips, neatly placed next to a slightly too large looking sidearm. Stiles couldn’t help but find them oddly comforting. Back when his father was alive there had been a lot of ‘wolves on the force in his hometown. It was kind of unusual to see so many non-humans in one small-town sheriff's department, but it was definitely nothing out of the norm in a place like New York City. Stuff like that was part of the reason he had left Beacon Hills in the first place. Well, that and the other thing.

The woman’s eyes faded to a deep hazel that Stiles didn’t find to be any more gentle than the blaze of the alpha red. Always one to take advantage of poor timing, Stiles’ stomach chose that moment to revolt. Someone in the room made a scoffing sound. When he resurfaced a moment later there was a string of vomit-y spit trailing from his chin and Stiles made a weak attempt to wipe it away with the back of his hand. Stiles couldn’t help but think that the nurse was right after all. Stiles did feel much better now.  

When he looked up the policewoman was standing across from Stiles, the puddle of vomit a shallow little sea between them. Stiles didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

He was just so fucking tired.

The woman paused for a moment, maybe assessing him, maybe just taking in the hot mess of a person that was sitting in front of her. Whatever it was she saw didn’t seem to be pleased or impressed. Stiles was fairly used to that though.

“My name is Detective Hale. I’d like to ask you a few questions about last night.”

Stiles blinked. “Did that guy die?”

The policewoman’s face grew slightly pinched. Stiles tried not to stare at her ears, which were slightly pointier than they were a few seconds ago. “Why would you ask that?”

“Uh, because he OD’d in the middle of the dance floor in a super skeevy night club?” Stiles let out a rough huff, “I mean, he’s kind of an asshole, but still.”

“ _He’s_ the asshole?”

Apparently that was _not_ the thing to say.

Stiles watched with a sort of blank concern as the woman’s eyes turned to molten lava across her face and her teeth became too large for her mouth. “What,” She seethed, “he didn’t want to come home with your creepy ass? Or was there something else you were hoping to do with him last night?”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“Detective Hale, you need to leave this room _right now.”_

Stiles peered behind the policewoman - _detective_ \- and found an almost equally furious looking man standing at the entrance of Stiles’ little hospital cubby. He was tall, probably around middle age. Stiles wasn’t the witch to feel up aura’s or read emotions. It just wasn’t something he had a talent for. But when Stiles took in the man’s slate colored eyes and stiff jaw he swore he could feel the ice rolling off of the guy.

Stiles gave an involuntary shiver.

Just off to the man’s side stood a young blonde woman who’s wild hair vaguely reminded Stiles of the nixie girl from the other night. Stiles threw his best glare at the guy in the doorway but the effect was pretty much lost because the man didn’t seem interested in Stiles at all, which was only making Stiles all the more pissed off.

“Okay, what the actual fuck is going on here?”

Instead of answering detective Hale snarled at the man in the doorway before turning on her heel and bee-lining out of the room. The blonde woman shifted out of the way of the detectives’ war path and gave Stiles a full-lipped smirk, “I don’t know boss, maybe you should Laura give this tinder-trap a good time.”

 _Fucker._ Stiles frowned, “Why am I chained to this bed and what do you want with me?”

The man gave a few stiff steps to Stiles’ bed and gave him a slow once over.

The sheets beneath him scratched at his bare legs and Stiles was suddenly very aware of how vulnerable he was. And pantless. “See something you like?”

Unphased the man looked back at Stiles’ face, “Mr. Stilinski, the man you asked about is a detective in my department. He believes you roofied him last night.”

Stiles started. That was _not_ what Stiles was planning on hearing. Whatever the look that fell over Stiles’ face was, it made the man’s face shift into an expression that was no less cold, but possibly more thoughtful.

This was so messed up.

“I don’t even know who the fuck that guy was!" Stiles instinctively tried to throw up his sands, the cuffs leaving his shoulders jolting to a halt. "Look, I was minding my own fucking business and then he comes out of fucking nowhere and then practically body-slams me into a table.” Without quite pausing for breath Stiles adds, “I mean he was very good looking and I was a little drunk so I was into it, but he was getting fucking _rough,_  so I told him to back the fuck off and then there was teeth and claws and shit so I pushed him off me." Stiles huffed, "That's it."

The man raised a single brow, “You pushed him off with magick?”

“Well, he’s like her, isn’t he?" Stiles gestured towards the flap of fabric detective Hale disappeared through a few moments ago. "A 'wolf. It wasn’t going to happen any other way.” Stiles folded his arms, “Defending myself from assault isn't a crime.”

“No,” the man conceded, “It’s not.”

“Poisoning is.” The blonde woman drawled from the corner.

“I’m telling you I didn’t give him anything.”

“Hmmmm.” The woman twisted a slender finger around a long lock of hair. Her smirking lips were open-wound red.

“Yeah, okay, who the fuck are you two again?”

The man gave Stiles that accessing look again before answering, “My name is Captain Chris Argent. I’m with the Preternatural Investigations Unit.”

“And what? You’re here because I’m a magick user? Anyone could have roofied your gropey cop.”

“Not quite, Mr. Stilinski. I’m here because one of my people was drugged with _enchanted_ wolfsbane last night, and he pointed a finger at you.”

Stiles tossed his arms out and then thought better of when the motion set his stomach churning. He felt gross and sticky and just wanted a shower and his own bed.

And maybe a sandwich.

“Look man, I don’t know what your officer was on or whatever. I was just trying to work up the nerve to go talk to this fae girl and then this guy was suddenly in my face and there was some making out involved. But that’s it. I didn’t slip shit in his drink or whatever.”

Captain Argent inclined his head towards the blonde woman behind. She made an irritated motion with her hand that seemed to satisfy him. He turned back to Stiles and slipped a rough-looking hand into his front pant pocket for a moment before it reappeared holding a small piece of runed metal. It fell into the center of his palm like an offering. The metal chip glowed a soft blue for a second and then then clasp around Stiles’ wrist fell to the mattress under him with a gentle thud.

Stiles rubbed at his wrist. “That’s it? I can go.”

“I won’t stop you, but I’d like you to take officer Reyes card. Make sure you stay in the city, too.”

“But then I can just go?”

Argent nodded, “For now, if your doctor says so. But don’t go far.” His pale blue eyes glanced over Stiles’s face, which Stiles’ highly suspected looked as pleasant as melted horseshit in July. “And you might want to take an easy. Whatever that wolfsbane was enchanted with was pretty vicious stuff.”

With that Argent turned to leave, the blonde policewoman already pulling out a little black notebook and pen before her superior made to push past the blue curtain that separated them from the rest of the room.

“Hey, wait.”

Argent cocked his head in Stiles’ direction.

“Why the hell did he think I did that to him?”

Stiles could see Argent’s mouth fall into a flat line. “He had his reasons.”

And then he was gone.

“Thanks for sharing.” Stiles muttered.

_Fucking asshole._

And then he was alone with officer Reyes and her blood-red smile.

-=-=-=-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.

“So you just  _ let him go _ ?” 

Laura set a long and slender hand on Derek’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, “Well, it’s not he’s actually going anywhere, Derek. Apparently that mouth full of magick wolfsbane did him dirty too.” 

“I’m telling you. He did this.”

“Because he’s a witch? That’s not evidence, Derek. And it’s not a crime to be a witch either.” Laura averted her eyes to the door of his private room. “And don’t forget there was a time someone might pull that speciest crap on our kind, no trial necessary.” Laura’s eyes fell back on Derek’s, a smile on her that didn’t reach her pale eyes, ”Like the programs say,  _ ‘Don’t be a tool, they’re people too.’ _ ”

“Laura.”

“ _ ‘’Supes aren’t new and they’re just like you!’ _ ”

Derek grabbed the nearest object to his immediate left and made to throw it at his sister before he realized the intended projectile was a used tissue he had used to wad up a piece of gum. With a sigh Derek let his arm fall to his lap. “Stop it. It’s not because he’s a witch, Laura.”

“Okay okay. I’m just saying.  _ Jennifer _ .”

“Yeah, I can hear you  _ just saying _ and now I’m saying this has nothing to do with  _ her _ . You don’t understand.” Derek pushed a hand through his hair, “One moment I was fine and then the next I was obsessed with him, with his scent. Only him. It was like I lost myself and the wolf was drunk.”

Laura slid her hand down Derek’s arm and wrapped her long fingers around his wrist. Derek couldn’t help but feel calmed by her touch. There was something about Laura that made the connection of alpha and beta stronger than normal. Maybe it was the shared blood of siblings, or the total trust they developed those long years alone after their pack was decimated, but Derek felt stronger by her side. It helped then as Laura sat there with that uneasy look on her face and that not-smile. 

“You know Derek, It happens sometimes to wolves. Someone just strikes you right and then boom.” Laura shrugged, “Normally said wolf isn’t drugged up the gills and it’s all a lot more romantic and a lot less hospital rooms and headaches, but...”

Derek couldn’t help the way his face fell.  _ This _ was not  _ that. _ Not to Derek Hale. “Not to witches though. To wolves. Or even humans, maybe. Especially me, Laura. Especially after  _ her _ .” Derek scratched at his arm, picking off the feeling of rose-pink colored nails brushing against him. Nails he hadn’t felt in over a year now. “I hate the smell of magick. There’s nothing about his scent that should have made me act like that. Nothing but magick.” Derek threw his head back to Laura would see the way his eyes were beginning to water. “He did this.”

To her credit, Laura kept her eyes averted, “Hey, if he’s in on this shit I’ll rip off his hands and feed them to him myself. But what idiot roofies a wolf with that toxic shit and then takes a big gulp of poison off of his tongue?”

Derek let out a hacking laugh, “A stupid one?”

“Well,” Laura conceded, “That is possible. He didn’t look like much.”

That perked Derek right up. “You saw him?”

“Spoke to him, actually.”

“You’re kidding.” Derek’s eyes bore into Laura’s with the critical intensity he threw at suspects in the interrogation room. From an outside perspective Laura could see how it would be terrifying, but Laura has a very distinctive memory of receiving that look from a ten year old Derek when Laura announced she was going to be a vegetarian. 

“Of course I did. I’m your alpha  _ and  _ your big sister.” Laura gave him a winning smile, “And I didn’t even eat him or anything.”

“I can’t believe Captain Argent let you.”

“Yeah. He didn’t. It was just for a moment though.”

“So do you believe me.”

“Of course.” Laura squeezed his hand, “But…” She shrugged, “Erica said he wasn’t lying. I agree. And he genuinely seemed confused.” Laura squeezed his hand, “And scared.”

“ _ Witch _ , Laura.”

“ _ Not a god _ , Derek.” Laura sat back and spared the cheap art print situated on the wall across her a glace, “Besides that, he looked sick. Like, tweaker thin and sketched out. Even if he did do it he’s probably just one of those magick junkies looking for a fix off of whatever he could take from you. He wasn’t exactly subtle. “ She pushed a lock of light brown hair behind her ear, “Or...”

“Or what?”

Laura’s hazel eyes fell back on Derek’s. “Or he was just a guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and found himself being assaulted by roofied ‘wolf twice his size.”

Derek let her words sink in and paled a shade, “Did I hurt him?”

Laura gave his wrist a squeeze, “He’s just a little bruised. I just don’t want you to lose sight of the big picture here Derek.” Laura rose to her feet, her hand still wrapped in Derek’s, “Yes he may have done this or maybe he knows who did. But maybe he’s just another victim of this bigger problem.” Laura softened her voice, “Maybe he’s just someone else we’re here to protect.”

Laura dropped Derek’s hand from her own. “I’m gonna go talk to Captain, see where we’re at with the press and stuff. You’re doctor said you can be released this evening if you keep this not-throwing-up thing going.”

“Okay.” But Derek wasn’t really listening to her anymore. 

 

-=-=-=-

 

Stiles would be the first to admit he had a one track mind. What that track was exactly was something hard to keep up with. This weeks flavor was drugs, specifically the kind that turn werewolves into aggro sex monsters. 

Scott peered over his shoulder, “I’m telling you dude, that’s not a roofie thing.”

Stiles waived him off, “Yeah, yeah. But you’re an EMT, man. Dig deep here.”

“Drug cocktail?” Scott offered. “Flunitrazepam-”

“Gazuntite.”

“-and aconitum napellus extract.”

“Right. Neither explain the attack-y part.”

“Dude, werewolf hots. Maybe you smelled like crack to him.”

“Thank you, Edward Cullen.”

“I’m serious. The first time I smelled Kira it was like the world’s best sugar cookies flew out of the oven and into my face.”

Stiles spun around in his seat, his legs flairing to get around the wide piano bench they found six blocks down. “So you wanted to eat her.”

“ _ So _ , I wanted to smell her. Possibly while using my tongue.”

“Ah! But you didn’t!”

“No, Stiles, I did not.”

“Because that would be weird and offensive.”

Scott nodded, “Because that would be weird and offensive. Also, I was interested in possible seeing her again, so.”

Stiles scooted back around the piano chair, “Or it’s drugs.”

Scott smoothed out his collar and gave an observing glance towards the orange sunlight crawling through their apartments dusty window. “We see Fentanyl OD’s almost every night, man. That shit’s bad enough to kill supes too. That and all the usual suspects get laced with magick, wolfsbane, iron dust. It’s all deadly and it’s fucking everywhere now.”

“Even in cops, apparently.”

“Yeah, that was fucking weird.” Scott began to search under their old couch for his wayward shoe, “Maybe it was something he touched. Remember that ‘rabies’ drug a couple of years ago?”

“Right after you got turned sophomore year? Uh, yeah, some hate group was dosing ‘wolves so they’d go feral. Hard to forget.”

“No one wanted to sit at our lunch table. My mom got letters. Shit sucked.” Scott yanked out his slightly squished shoe and held it over his head triumphantly, “Not the point. What’s my point?”

“Don’t do drugs?”

“Yes. Unless you make, don’t bake.”

“I think Nancy Reagan would disapprove of that lax attitude.”

“Well, Nancy Reagan didn’t have to be treated for pixie bites and aconitum dust in the same week.”

“That was one hell of a rash.”

“Fuck yes it was.” Scott agreed, “Alright, I’m off to save people from themselves. Kira said she isn’t coming back until tomorrow night.”

Stiles threw up a hand to waive him off, “I’ll have dinner waiting.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

Scott shut the door behind him. 

Stiles pulled out a diagram he made of the club’s main room, complete with the bar, tables, the occasional patron, and angry werewolves. Officer Reyes card was clipped in the corner. 

He sighed and rummaged for his cell.

 

-=-=-=-

 

It’d been twelve hours and Derek was still feeling a little hung over. Or maybe that twisted feeling in his gut was something else. That kid was on his mind.  _ Mieczyslaw _ , a name Derek couldn’t even pretend to reproduce in his head. Derek had tried looking him up through a fake Facebook account Erika kept for keeping up on people incognito. 

He didn’t find anything. 

Erika said his ID put him at 22. Derek’s memory put him several years younger, a guilt that had been weighing on him heavily after his talk with Laura. Derek still didn’t remember much, but in the back of his head he kept playing the maybe-memory of pale skin and too large eyes.

And then there was the part where someone managed to drug an undercover cop. It seemed too coincidental that the drug of choice was made for ‘wolves and found its way to a cop investigating the place. 

Derek tapped at the mugshots lined up on his kitchen table. Deucalion Emery. Kali Terrell. Ennis Wade. Emery had been arrested three years ago for racketeering. No conviction. Between the two of them Terrell and Wade had a couple of assault charges pinned on them. Ennis Wade served eight months in Metropolitan for assaulting several patrons at a bar and then partially blinding another ‘wolf with a pool stick. Apparently he bit off his cellmates finger.

Deucalion Emery was the owner of the the club Derek and Laura were investigating. And  _ Deluge _ had quite the local reputation. Generally a ‘wolf-owner club like  _ Deluge _ would see a larger population of werewolves. Deucalion had been known to consider the mixed clientele as a point of pride. The six months after its grand opening the press even praised him for it. What the press failed to mention was that for certain venues, inclusivity could come with a cost, ie, clubs full of drugs catered to mixed clientele can get mixed up and kill people. The press stopped mentioning  _ Deluge  _ at all after the first few overdoses. And then the dead body that showed up at its back door.

It wasn’t a pleasant locale, even for a sticky, drug riddled club.

Of course clubs full of drugs was the root of the problem. Derek and Laura were on  _ Deluge _ . It wasn’t just a breeding ground for dealing, it was the fucking manufacturer too. And it wasn’t the only one in the city either. 

Laura had poured her everything into this, beyond what even Derek thought was reasonable. It was just a matter of time before everything fell into place. And even though Derek knew her heart was into the greater good, he couldn’t help but think about how this would  _ make  _ her. Laura was supposed to be taking the sergeant’s exam this year. She already had a reputation for her level-headed leadership. Laura had a real shot to go somewhere. There were plenty of ‘wolves in the department, but hardly any in higher leadership. If Laura didn’t want to cap out at sergeant she needed to stay in line and bring in the big bads. Deucalion Emery was  _ definitely  _ a bad bad. 

And here Derek was, making a scene at clubs he’s supposed to be blending into and attacking civilians. 

Civilians with unpronounceable names who smelled like sweet warm toffee and bitter magick and hang out in seedy places like  _ Deluge _ . 

It was probably the drug.

He hoped it was the drug.

It just didn’t feel like the drug

Derek’s phone vibrated from its seat on the stack of casefiles. Laura’s name was scrawled across a selfie she took of herself at a Mets game last year.

“Hey, Laur.”

“Are you supine on the coach, binging The Flash, cocoa in hand?”

Derek eyed the pile of casefiles, “Yes.”

“Liar.”

“Uh huh. Any news?”

“Actually yes.” Someone shouted in the background. “Hang on.”

Derek pulled his laptop closer and opened a new tab. He heard a door close on the other line and it suddenly got quiet. 

“Right. So, apparently there been at least two other OD’s from the cocktail you ingested. Both wolves. One case three weeks ago, ended in a human catching a few claws in the chest, the other guy was a week ago, but he just wolfed out, broke a table, and then passed out. Toted him to the ER. Both vics claim they were drinking, but no drugs.”

“Where at?”

“First guy was at that Red-Eye place on 47th.”

“Seedy.”

“Second OD was at Velvet Lounge on Broadway.”

“Fancy.”   
“And now  Deluge .

“It’s a varied mix. And that might not be it. At least three others exhibiting similar symptoms of aconite poisoning and the weird aggro behavior but it flushed out of their systems too fast.”

“Any theories?”

“Just speculation, but getting someone’s heart rate up and pumping is a great way to make sure a poison does its job.”

“And it’s a shit way to keep clients. Which puts Deucalion out of the running.”

“It’s probably too targeted to be an oops, so basically, yeah.”

Derek let a few moments of silence fall between them. 

“Was there something else?”

“Captain thinks you need to give that club kid some space.”

Derek’s eyebrows knitted in, annoyed, “I wasn’t exactly tracking him down, Laur.”

“See, I sort of think you should.”

“That is a terrible idea.”

“Okay,” Laura reasoned, “What direction did you come from when you came to him?”

“You know I don’t know.”

“Right. And what did the drink you had taste like?”

“I don’t remember.”

“I know. But he did.”

That made Derek freeze, “He said he didn’t see anything, that I was suddenly there.”

“Yep. And that you tasted ‘bitter.’” And then he called Erika and said something else. Several somethings.”

“And I need to go over it with him.”

“And you need to go over it with him, ASAP.”

Derek worried his lip, “Captain-”

“Captain Argent agrees. He doesn’t like it. There was a long conversation.”   
“I bet.”

“He came around.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Derek sighed, “Okay.”

 

-=-=-=-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a message after the ___.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a message after the ___.


End file.
